


Wise Advice

by raisedbymoogles



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Encouragement, Fluff, Gen, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/pseuds/raisedbymoogles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experience is the benchmark of maturity. ...Hugs help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wise Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Banged out in an evening to celebrate the 30th birthday of TF:TM. Takes place in the same continuity as "Dipolemacy," wherein Sunset House, Polaris and Sirius are introduced.

Sometime after the galactic apocalypse was averted - again - a stranger came to Sunset House.

He listened politely as the bouncer explained the rules, but shyly declined to sign his name to the guestbook and refused the free drink traditionally given to first-time visitors. The bouncer figured this one was just shy and marked his transponder data as such on the House’s security monitors. The visitor, meanwhile, took a seat in the back of the room and watched with dim blue optics as the House dancers performed an Earth-inspired dance on the wide stage.

In here, the outside world did not intrude. Outside the air was full of news displays about the aftermath of the Hate Plague and the return of Optimus Prime. Cybertron and Earth were full of chatter and speculation, and no one walking the streets of Iacon could escape it - except here, where there were no vidscreens and the windows were covered with leadvelvet drapes. The stranger folded his arms on his table and drew air through his vents in a slow extended cycle. The music was soft and soothing, the dancers’ movements dreamlike. He was okay. He’d be okay for now.

The dance ended; Sirius and Polaris bowed in acknowledgement to their audience’s applause and began to circulate. The visitor in the back stayed quiet, but his optics followed them both with an almost hungry longing as they chattered and flirted and made their way closer and closer to where he sat.

Pol was the one to spot him first. The sweet smile he wore for guests dropped away into shock as their gazes met. _“Roddy?”_ he blurted.

“Hey, Pol.” Hot Rod, once Rodimus Prime, dipped his head in sheepish acknowledgement. “Sorry I didn’t call - oof!”

Suddenly he had an armful of tearful star, and he clung in guilt as Pol scolded him. “I was so worried! None of us knew what happened, Headquarters wouldn’t tell us where you were!”

“They’re not supposed to,” Hot Rod admitted, then, “I really am sorry. I just - I didn’t know what to do.”

Sirius quietly slid into the chair next to Hot Rod and tucked an arm around the smaller mech’s back. Hot Rod let Sirius guide him close, leaning into his friend’s side with Pol cuddling into his lap. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Sirius murmured. “And you’re here now, so we can help you figure out what to do next if you want.”

“You’re so _little,_ ” Pol marveled, though he was still a head shorter than Hot Rod. “All tiny and squidgeable! Wait ’til Lesti sees~”

Hot Rod muffled a laugh against Pol’s helm. “Yeah, this is the real me - Hot Rod.” The name felt so strange in his mouth - the name of a stranger, almost.

Something of how he said it must have communicated his unease. Sirius made a thoughtful noise, resting his cheek on Hot Rod’s helm, and took his friend’s hand. “How long’s it been since you were Hot Rod last?” he asked.

Hot Rod decided that the mess with the funerary barge did _not_ count. “…feels like a lifetime,” he admitted, a little static entering his voice, and Pol’s arms tightened around him.

“I’ll bet.” There was a smile in Sirius’s voice, and gentleness in his hands as he stroked over Hot Rod’s. “You’ve done so much, grown so much…”

“Was that a pun?”

Sirius snickered and Pol tapped Hot Rod’s nose. “Hush, you, he’s trying to dispense Wise Advice.”

“Not advice!” Sirius laughed. “Just - you know. The you that exists now, with everything you’ve experienced since then - if you’re looking for the real you? He’s right here.” Another squidge, affection and pride in Sirius’s voice and field, and Hot Rod leaned into that warmth.

“Wise Advice,” Pol murmured, and grinned a tease when Sirius sputtered and batted at him. 

His smile brightened when Hot Rod giggled. “Definitely Wise Advice,” he agreed. “Prime-level Wise Advice. Thanks, Siri - you’re right. I’ll stop trying to crawl into armor that’s too small for me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sirius praised. “We love you no matter how big you are! Now, _please_ tell me you’d like to dance for us in the near future. I bet you’re all kinds of flexible in this form.”

“Oooh!” Polaris bounced. “I want to see that. Yes, please, Roddy, won’t you please dance?”

Hot Rod’s field heated with mingled embarrassment and excitement. “I guess Hot Rod 2.0 had better start working on a routine.” He laughed as Polaris squealed and hugged him tight in a whirlwind of joy, Sirius following suit in a more restrained but no less sparkfelt manner.


End file.
